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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24660511">What Dwells Beneath</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pathomide/pseuds/Pathomide'>Pathomide</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Dark, Dark Magic, Death, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Tom Riddle's Diary, Torture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:28:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,687</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24660511</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pathomide/pseuds/Pathomide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>During her fifth year, Hermione Granger accidentally stumbles upon a nefarious plot, finding herself locked within the claws of a young Tom Riddle, and being dragged down a path that threatens to shatter the bonds with those whom she holds dear.</p><p>Sometimes, one needn't go looking for trouble; for it finds you, and the only choice is to be pulled into the darkness, or risk losing everything.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>173</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Curiosity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was originally going to be a long one-shot... the plot-bunnies had other ideas. It is 100% canon up until late Nov. of their fifth year (OotP), and then diverts drastically. I'm new to writing and don't have a beta, so forgive any potential errors or flaws. Updates may vary as this is being written during my very minimal freetime.</p><p><strong>Disclaimer/Warning:</strong> Tom Marvolo Riddle is a morally reprehensible character, and thus, this story will contain dark, adult, and unhealthy themes, as well as death. </p><p>Feedback is always appreciated, and I hope you all enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frail clouds loomed above the Scottish Highlands on the last Monday evening of November, threatening to fracture without warning, eagerly daring to cover the world below in a blanket of torrent rainfall. The soft birdsong which had once sung throughout the year had ceased, leaving only the eldritch vocals of the wind to battle through the air, blustering against the peaked spires of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.</p><p>On the first floor of the ancient structure, nestled down a lantern-lit recess within the library, sat a petite, bushy-haired girl. Surrounded by several mounds of tomes and texts, she sat with an old vellum scroll gently pried open with her pale fingers. And yet, she wasn't reading the contents of the scroll at all, for her attention was trained solely on the ancient tome which sat covertly hidden beneath it.</p><p>Hermione Granger gently pulled her lower lip into her mouth and gnawed at the pink flesh with her front teeth. Carefully, she tugged the scroll back to read an obscured portion of the text in the concealed volume. Her eyes sparked with an intense fire and hunger as they continued to pass over the contents, soaking up the knowledge and secrets like a dry sponge against water. The same hunger was evenly plastered across her features, and anyone who might stumble upon the girl in this part of the library would surely see it and retreat in worry of interrupting the engrossed student. For that fact, Hermione was positively relieved, but whether it was from not desiring to be interrupted, or not being caught, was yet undecided.</p><p>The alcove momentarily illuminated with a bright gleam, followed shortly by an almighty grumble of thunder cracking through the air. Craning her neck to glance towards the mullioned window behind her, Hermione watched as rain began to pelt against the old pane. For reasons unknown even to her, she found herself peculiarly comforted by the volatile, wet weather, somehow enjoying the dismal tone of it all.</p><p>Before Hermione could continue reading, her attention was piqued by heavy, uneven footsteps.</p><p>Instinctively, she turned, eyeing the walkway a few metres away from her. But the movement stopped long before it reached her alcove. Muffled voices filtered towards her from a few bookshelves down, and Hermione's lips pursed, seemingly displeased with the unwanted intrusion, holding the hope that the continued thunderstorm would drown out whomever was there.</p><p>Tragically, it took only seven short moments before the voices became more present — more forceful — turning into tense, raised mutterings. Before she even had time to delve back into her reading, a dull thud bounced against one of the bookshelves. Hermione jolted, snapping an aggravated scowl in the direction of the sudden noise.</p><p>"—on't bloody well care, you<em> idiots</em>. I need—" the voice, even through the downpour and distance, sounded as though it had been seethed through gritted teeth; distinct ire weaved throughout the heady tone.</p><p>More muffled, indiscernible words echoed towards Hermione, whose eyes were burning with raw, mounting annoyance.</p><p>"What on earth are they<em> doing?"</em> the brunette hissed out in a whisper to nobody but her books.</p><p>Whilst not being the first time that Hermione had encountered brazenly inconsiderate students, she didn't find it any less bothersome. With an embellished roll of her eyes and the timid pride of her recently gained prefect status, she riled herself to action.</p><p>Hermione huffed as she pushed herself up to a stand, taking three purposeful strides towards the edge of her aisle. Before reaching the corner, she heard the voice again; much louder than before, owed to the closer proximity, and her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.</p><p>"—get it for me," the voice demanded, proud and fiercely arrogant, and yet, there was something strange beneath the tone which bespoke frantic intent.</p><p>Hermione faltered mid-step, lips forming a tight line. She recognised the voice instantly, being one which held such disdain, malice and mockery towards her and her friends for the better part of her school life: Draco Malfoy.</p><p>Eyebrows remaining stiffly furrowed, Hermione focused on his words, and from the look painted across her features, she seemed to be listening intently for a reply. A blooming tinge of curiosity had begun gently claiming Hermione's annoyance, and she opted to quietly edge herself towards the corner of the tall bookshelf to her right.</p><p>Malfoy wanted something. Whatever it was, and whether she really ought to care, Hermione felt purposely inclined to know.</p><p>"W-W... No, we <em> can't</em>, Draco! It's impossible — ain't no bloody way we won't get caught," stammered another voice, much louder than Hermione thought the boy intended. "Dumbledo—"</p><p>Once more, a hollow thud bounced against a bookshelf. Hermione tensed yet held her breath as she waited for a response she was sure was to come from the boy she could identify as Gregory Goyle. Though it must have been whispered, concealing their words, or perhaps nothing else had been said at all.</p><p>The pelting rain assaulting the window denied the silence from their paused interaction, and their words seemed to sink in a moment later than they ought to have.</p><p>"<em>Get caught?"</em> breathed Hermione, and it was so quiet that it was almost as though she hadn't uttered a single word.</p><p>In truth, Hermione was aware it would be best to push aside her prejudice against the male students before jumping to conclusions, and she endeavored to ignore the glaring fact that their fathers were <em> Death Eaters </em> — and had had a hand in Harry's attack at the end of the last school year. Yet she couldn't bring herself to do it. It was as clear as a summer's day, and Hermione found little need to justify or brush over their actions: they were up to no good. She rolled her eyes, unable to understand how somebody could possibly possess time in their already busy school lives to cause such havoc and mischief.</p><p>Hermione, whether it was intentional or not, chose to ignore the hypocrisy of her musings. For it was only mere weeks prior that she, herself, had asked Harry to lead their secret D.A. meetings.</p><p>Wanting to get closer, Hermione raised her right hand to rest against the dark oak of the bookshelf and pressed herself into it, attempting to curiously peer around the corner without being discovered by the other students. She had just caught a glimpse of white-blond hair when her hip shifted against a large book that wasn't securely placed. A small pit dipped within her stomach as the leather-clad item began its descent towards the timber ground. Hermione gasped out as she snapped back, twisting her body in a feeble attempt to save the tome. Balance utterly destroyed, she keeled over and awkwardly toppled onto her knees in a heap, cradling the tome in her arms as if it were a small infant. </p><p>As if their mission was to torment or antagonise the poor girl, several other volumes clattered to the floor with little regard for subtlety.</p><p>Hermione squeezed her eyes shut so tightly she started to see blots in her vision. If she, somehow, hadn't been heard up until then, there was no feasible way Malfoy hadn't heard<em> that. </em></p><p>A shaky breath escaped her lips as heavy footsteps began their trek towards her aisle. Hermione cursed her treacherous lack of poise as a trio of boys came to a halt mere feet from her, glaring down at her huddled form — an unnecessary but cautionary wand held between Malfoy's long fingers.</p><p>"Oh look, what do we have here, boys?" Malfoy's voice held a foul tone of mockery. "A filthy little <em> Mudblood,"</em> Hermione bristled at the term, her smooth hands reluctantly clenching into tight fists around the book, eyes narrowing. "And it's an <em> ease-dropping </em> Mudblood at that," he sneered down at her in visible disgust, and a flash of lightning illuminated his narrow face, causing an eerie look to appear across it.</p><p>A contemptuous chuckle came from Vincent Crabbe, the plumper male to Draco Malfoy's right, and a cock-eyed grin etched its way onto his rounded, unsightly face. Malfoy casually pocketed his wand a few moments later, just as the thunder growled across the Highlands.</p><p>Hermione looked as though she was struggling to contain her emotions, face sat tight, and she nearly stumbled as she quickly scrambled up to a stand, brown eyes hurling a turbulent scowl at the taller student. Still a little flustered, she sucked in a harsh breath, head held high, refusing to let Malfoy attempt to rile her up further. She had heard it all before, and she was no fool to think she would not hear it all again.</p><p>"Any person with functioning ears and a brain would have little trouble overhearing the scene you were making, Malfoy," replied Hermione before she began picking up the fallen books from the floor. "Perhaps you should consider the volume of which you speak. You <em> are </em>in a library," she reminded him stiffly.</p><p>"Well, isn't that ironic! Having some trouble with the books you bury your nasty face into, Granger?" Draco Malfoy peered down at Hermione with a mocking smirk, eyebrow smugly raised.</p><p>Crabbe and Goyle snickered in a cruel way from either side of the teen, and it did nothing to ease Hermione's displeasure. When he didn't receive an immediate reply, the Malfoy heir scoffed in an indignant manner and took an oppressive step towards Hermione, who had begun replacing the fallen books onto the darkened shelves with a tense look pooling in her eyes.</p><p>Before the male had the chance to speak again, Hermione broke the short-lived silence.</p><p>"And what <em> exactly </em> were you doing back there, Malfoy?" challenged Hermione as she shot a quick glance up at the proud male, watching his reactions. "Do you make a habit of assaulting fellow students on school grounds? Perhaps I should talk to a professor about your behaviour — they ought to know when a prefect is acting indecently," her voice momentarily took on a mildly autocratic tone, one she scarcely used unless it was during her prefect duties against extremely ill-behaved students. "<em>And</em> when one is in talks of potentially being<em> caught."</em></p><p>From the corner of her eye she saw Goyle peer around sheepishly, shifting his centre of gravity to his other leg in an uneasy fashion. When her gaze fell back onto Malfoy, his face held an out of place, almost feral look about it. Hermione visibly faltered, not expecting the reaction in the slightest. The look, as heated as it was disarming, was quite peculiar in response to her prior words. It wasn't as though Hermione had never threatened to involve a teacher before. Noting the odd behaviour, she squinted up at him in thought before turning to place a book back onto the correct shelf.</p><p>A crack of thunder echoed through the air the moment Malfoy took a slow into the alcove. "I suggest you keep your nose out of my business, Granger," he seethed out, tone rigid, eyeing Hermione as she pushed the book into its place. "It doesn't involve <em> worthless </em> vermin filth like you."</p><p>Hermione bit the inside of her lip before her gaze shot back up to the boy, her chestnut eyes lit with palpable spite. In that moment, it appeared she deemed it a necessity to forgo her usual mantra to never stoop to his level.</p><p>"Oh, of <em>course</em>. I suspect it need only involve vile, self-absorbed brats who possess nothing of worth except a glorified family name," bit Hermione vehemently, her eyes never once leaving the male's contorted face.</p><p>Like a striking snake, Draco Malfoy's hand dove into the pocket he had stashed his wand in. "Watch your mouth, you disgusting little—"</p><p>"By Merlin's beard! Just what do you think you are <em>doing?"</em></p><p>In an instant, Hermione's once heated gaze snapped away from Malfoy, who span on his heel, towards the sudden shrill voice. The vulture-like silhouette of Madam Pince emerged; pointed hat perched firmly on her head, eyes wide and horror stricken as she leered at the remaining books scattered on the floor amongst the students.</p><p>"You depraved children! Get out! Out now — <em>out!" </em> Madam Pince waved her arms fervently, desperately attempting to usher the group away and down towards the door. Hermione heard a series of yelps as a jet of purple cracked from the librarian's wand and shot towards the trio as they fled the scene.</p><p>"Madam Pince, I—" Hermione spluttered, unable to find her words.</p><p>The robed woman whipped around to peer down her hooked nose at Hermione. "<em>Miss Granger</em>, do not attempt to placate me," chided the librarian. "I expected better of you, girl. Collect your things and leave this instant."<br/><br/>Without a second thought, Hermione quickly dove towards her table, trying to be discreet as she began stuffing her things into her bag in a chaotic flurry.</p><p>"And I suggest you leave that book where it is," added Madam Pince with a raise of her slender hand, finger pointed rigidly at the ancient text peeking from beneath the scroll.</p><p>
  <strong>. . .</strong>
</p><p>Hermione's feet dragged to a temporary halt before the Fat Lady. "<em>Mimbulus mimbletonia,</em>" the brunette muttered out long before the plump, painted woman even had a chance to open her mouth.</p><p>The Fat Lady seemed put down by the disregard, and chose to roll her eyes in a grandiose fashion, but nevertheless, the large portrait swung open, revealing the wide hole to which Hermione scrambled through without a second's delay. She continued through until it opened up into the common room, which had several Gryffindor students sat chattering away throughout the large, rounded area.</p><p>Her thick, umber mane swayed as she took smooth steps through the cosy space, smiling happily over at Ginny as she chatted with two other Gryffindor students near the stairs. Over to the far corner, Harry sat deep in thought upon the crimson sofa nestled beside the lion-adorned fireplace, and Hermione quickly shuffled over to the armchair opposite of him.</p><p>The crackling fire was a welcome warmth for Hermione against the cool leather. "Evening, Harry," she called softly, but he seemed to not hear her, or had simply chosen not to reply. With a crestfallen furrow of her brows, she dearly hoped it wasn't the latter.</p><p>Hermione lifted her schoolbag from her shoulder to place it on the rug by her feet, habitually readjusting her mother's necklace when the chain caught against the strap. Slipping her Charms book out from the discarded bag, she settled back into the armchair and opened it onto the last page she had been on. Over the rim of pages, she spied an approaching lanky male who stopped just behind the sofa Harry was sat upon.</p><p>"All right, Hermione?" called Ron in a casual hum, chin raising in greeting towards his friend.</p><p>Tilting her lips into a delicate show of acknowledgement, Hermione nodded in reply, hoping his presence may stir their best friend out of his bleak stupor. Ron's head gestured towards Harry, his blue eyes asking unspoken questions he knew the answers to already. Hermione shook her head in silent response, a grim look adorning her features, and Ron merely nodded his head softly.</p><p>"You all right too, mate?" when Harry didn't reply, Ron's hand reached out to pat against Harry's shoulder. "Mate?" he tried again, and the boy's onyx-haired head turned to face him, somewhat in a daze.</p><p>"Oh. Yeah, sorry—I'm fine," chirped Harry in reply, a broad smile playing on his lips. Hermione knew it wasn't a proper smile at all.</p><p>Harry finally greeted Hermione, and the two exchanged a few words before Ron's older, twin-brothers came sauntering over to the trio, pulling the boys' attention away from her. It allowed Hermione's focus to drift away, and she stared down at the text within her book without truly seeing the words.</p><p>Lost in a pensive bubble, Hermione began worrying her teeth against her lower lip, artlessly pondering if the incident within the library would result in her being indefinitely banned. Madam Pince was known to hold eternal rancour against misbehaving students, and Hermione feared she may be a contender for such virulence. Her face contorted into a desperate expression, and she buried herself deeper into the armchair in shame. Tense moments ticked by on the large clock across the room, and after much contemplation, Hermione settled on visiting the library the following morning after breakfast.</p><p>Even if Madam Pince jinxed her, the girl appeared too determined to attempt to sort the mess out to care.</p><p>Against the heat of the ever-burning flame licking up high within the fireplace, and dwindling chattering in the background, Hermione's thoughts quickly threaded towards the incident which sparked her mental unrest; Draco Malfoy.</p><p>Truth be told, Hermione was drastically more curious than she truly ought to be about the thing he had been too keen to get his hands on. But, perhaps that was what had caught the girl's attention. Malfoy was never that keen. From the sounds alone, whatever he had wanted, he had been willing to go as far as roughing up his two closest housemates — his own friends. Though, Hermione bore doubt whether or not Malfoy was capable of harboring a true friendship with anyone but himself.</p><p>It was all rather strange, and indeed suspicious, but it wasn't enough to send Hermione's righteousness into immediate action — she would need more to go on before that.</p><p>Glancing over towards her friends, Hermione's lips parted as though she intended to beckon out to them, to inform them of what had happened, yet she paused. Low in her chest an all too familiar concoction of pride and stubbornness brewed, and a distant voice told her to not speak a word, forcing her lips to lock.</p><p>It was not the first time Hermione had encountered the feeling, for there had long been a hunger within her; one which longed for validation, craved for chances to prove itself, and thrived on the praise that followed. It gave Hermione worth; gave her purpose, but also fed into her deepest doubts. Involving Harry and Ron would ruin her chance to ease the desire, and it was hardly like she'd never dealt with worse things without them before. Thus, given the lack of severity it posed, she chose for it to go unmentioned.</p><p>Hermione planned to keep a watchful eye on Malfoy and figure out what he was up to, and if he dug himself a deeper hole, she would gladly bury him in it to reap her reward.</p><p>A satisfied smile curled against Hermione's lips as she turned her attention back to her Charms book.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>The long, cold November days seemed to zip by with little effort, and Monday quickly faded into Thursday, leaving only a few days before December's arrival, and with it, snowy, brittle weather.</p><p>Light footsteps pattered across the chilled, stone floor as scarf-wrapped Hermione nimbly headed down a narrow hallway. She squeezed past some third years blocking the way, careful as to not drop the several large tomes she carried between her arms.</p><p>In contrast to the crisp air, she wore a sunny smile across her face. It had turned out that Hermione had not been banned from the library, much to her surprise and glee. Madam Pince had been lenient on the girl, citing Hermione was no deliberate fool, and was unlikely to let it happen again — but had reminded Hermione that if it <em> were </em> to ever occur again, the woman wouldn't hold back from applying due punishment.</p><p>Hermione had an uncharacteristically light skip to her step as she turned to head down a short flight of marble stairs before trailing down another hallway. With a soft squeak, her black school shoes came to a sharp pause. From the corner of her eye, she happened upon a silhouette nestled beside a tall brazier far away down the opposite corridor, flame licking up high and snapping with heat. Hermione squinted in suspicion, and she immediately shuffled away towards the corner wall, peering in the direction of the figure.</p><p>It was Draco Malfoy.</p><p>If Hermione didn't know any better, she would think he was on prefect duty, simply waiting to catch some poor first year out to dock some housepoints. But Hermione did know better; and she also knew that Malfoy didn't have prefect duty that evening. </p><p>Hermione scowled in reprimand at the male as he lingered, dubiously eyeing his surroundings.</p><p>After their run-in at the library, Hermione had scarcely seen the blond boy other than shared classes and in the Great Hall during meals. If it had been the week prior, Hermione would've certainly found it lovely, but it did nothing but send her instincts alight.</p><p>It was almost as though Malfoy was actively trying to steer clear of Hermione. Truthfully, that only perplexed her more, but it also caused a simmering annoyance to fester in her belly, gnawing at her calm. She was no closer to figuring out what the Slytherim had been planning than she had been at the beginning of that week.</p><p>A gathering of timid first years passed by Malfoy, and Hermione noted that Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to be seen, but before given another second to dwell on her thoughts, a group of students approached her from behind her.</p><p>"Hey, Hermione," Ginny called over in a friendly voice as she approached. "Heading to the library?" she queried, eyeing the books held firmly in her friend's arms.</p><p>Almost awkwardly, Hermione scuttled back around the stone. "Oh, erm—yeah, I am," she replied clumsily, attempting to act like she hadn't just been spying on another student, regardless of who it was.</p><p>"We're headed there as well," said Ginny, casually motioned her head in gesture to her friends. "You're welcome to join us, if you'd like." Hermione nodded after a short delay, and Ginny seemed to miss the slight reluctance in her actions. "Come on then, let's get a move on."</p><p>Ginny's ginger ponytail gently swung side-to-side as she headed in the direction of the library. Hermione followed suit a few moments later, but before turning down another corridor, she shot a glance back towards her earlier distraction. He was gone.</p><p>
  <strong>. . .</strong>
</p><p>"Do be careful with those books, girl!" cried Madam Pince, a severe look resting upon her ageing face.</p><p>The older woman tutted aloud as she watched through beady eyes after Hermione near stumbled out into the hallway, carrying several more books than she had returned several hours prior. Hermione steadied herself against the stone wall to her left with her elbow, and a hot puff of air left her mouth as she blew a few dozen stray curls out of her rosy face. Over the stack of books, Hermione's brown eyes peeked out, and she muttered a contrite apology to the librarian before carefully turning on her heel to head down the stoned corridor.</p><p>Given the sheer amount of books she possessed, Hermione rather supposed that she looked a little ridiculous, and any student who may pass the girl would undoubtedly question who in their right mind ever needed so many books, especially all at once. But Hermione would pay them no heed.</p><p>The haunting clock chimes quaked through the halls, signalling the time had reached eight in the evening. Hermione's speed instinctively picked up as she continued on down a long hallway, the air crisp and ripe with the sweet, musty tomes' scent, which sat just before her buttoned nose. Ginny had left Hermione to her studies over an hour prior, and the fire-lit halls were mostly barren except for the occasional older student walking through the echoing tunnels.</p><p>Upon reaching a flight of stairs, Hermione hopped up each step with little poise and grace, and when she reached the peak, she turned to head down the hallway. Hermione felt, rather than saw, the broad wall of robe colliding abruptly against the towering mound of books in her arms.</p><p>A sharp gasp of dread escaped Hermione's lips, and for several long, stagnant moments, time appeared to stand still as the world twisted and pivoted around her. Her slender fingers loosened as instinct kicked in, and she shot her arms out to soften the impending greeting with the cold stone beneath her. Old tomes fluttered around her like fresh falling snow, and they clattered against the floor in tandem with her. Some shuttled across the floor, and several got sent bobbing down the staircase. A dull jolt of pain ripped through Hermione as she landed, and she groaned out in annoyance when a heavy weight hit her. Her dazed focus immediately darted towards the weight across her legs, her eyes tempered and ablaze.</p><p>"What the bloody hell are you <em> playing </em> at, you daft prat," a befuddled, yet haughty voice hissed at her.</p><p>Hermione darted to a sitting position, wiggling away from the other before staggering to a stand. She glared harshly at the other student, watching as he groaned in seeded anger while scrambling up before snarling down at her from his superior height.</p><p>"Excuse me? Perhaps you should watch where you are going, Malfoy. Honestly, you could have knocked me halfway down the <em> stairs,</em>" Hermione scolded viciously.</p><p>"And wouldn't <em> that </em>have been the preferred outcome," Draco spat back at her, dusting himself off before readjusting his robes. "Get the hell out of my way."</p><p>Showing great restraint, Hermione bit her lower lip, refusing to fall into another spat with the blond boy, and she pushed past him in an overly belligerent manner to gather the small, black book that had landed behind him before gathering a few others from the area. When she stood up to her full height and scanned the floor for more books, Draco Malfoy was snarling his overly white teeth at her in revulsion.</p><p>In that moment, owed only to the fact he was so close to her, she saw dark circles encompassing his stormy grey eyes. Before she had another beat to dwell on it, he pulled back; pirouetting before he stalked away, muttering ill words about her as he hopped over a book and kicked another out of the way.</p><p>Hermione's face paled in shock at the display. "How <em> dare </em> you, Malfoy!" she screeched after him, fingers twitching; desperately wanting to reach for her wand and chuck a hex his way. But she stopped herself before her thoughts escalated into reality.</p><p>A heavy breath escaped her as she strode over to the abused book, and she checked it for any damage before placing it on her growing stack. She aptly collected the remaining tomes from the floor, and headed straight to the Gryffindor Common Room, habitually ignoring Ron's comment about how someone could possibly need that much reading material, before she headed up the stairs to her dorm room.</p><p>The mass of books cradled in her arms were placed onto her duvet before she reached into her schoolbag and gently pried the three thick tomes out; opting to deposit them onto her bedside table the moment she saw how little room remained for her after Crookshanks decided to pounce onto the lower end of her mattress.</p><p>For the remainder of the evening, and much into the night, Hermione lay in bed reading with avid fascination, barely succeeding in sparing a distracted greeting to Lavender and Parvati when they returned, and it wasn't long before the tingle of sleep beckoned her to succumb to it. Hermione instinctively shuffled down into a more comfortable position, resting her head against a fluffy red pillow, and she could feel the coarse pages and chilled leather book-cover pressed firmly against her bare calf. But even through the warmed air, the cool touch of the tome wasn't entirely unwelcome.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Accusations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">“Oi, watch it, Hermione! You're like a bat out of bleedin' hell,” groaned Ron, voice laced with fatigue as he twisted to look up at Hermione through squinting eyes before he continued his snail-paced hobble down the stairs.<br/><br/>“Well, <em>forgive me</em>, Ron,” announced Hermione in a huffy voice before venting her frustration towards the back of the other's head with a pointed glare. “I managed to oversleep, and now I am <em>late,</em>” she whined, giving a few small, rapid taps onto her friend's back in a meek show of displeasure, attempting to speed him up. “Oh, do hurry up!”<br/><br/>Upon reaching the bottom of the staircase, Ron paused his movements entirely and turned to look at Hermione in a flummoxed manner, ginger eyebrow raised high.<br/><br/>“Erm... Hermione? You <em>do </em>know we have no classes until after first break, yeah? 'Cause, see...” Ron paused before looking at the tall grandfather clock across the common room, taking a few seconds to conclude his next statement. “That's in <em>three hours,</em>” he pressed matter-of-factly, adding extra emphasis to drive his point home.<br/><br/>With striking candour, Hermione stared up at Ron with an unimpressed look as she readjusted the bag hanging from her shoulder, then made a start to pass him. Ron, seemingly with ideas of his own, reached his long arm out in a jovial manner, grinning triumphantly when his friend staggered to a pause. As was customary, Hermione took his low-hanging bait with little reluctance.<br/><br/>“I am well aware of the time, Ron, but I must finish next week's Arithmancy assignment, and proofread my Potions essay again before lessons start,” retorted Hermione, mimicking the tone he had previously used, then raised her hand to massage her temple softly.<br/><br/>As if on cue, the mere utterance of the dreaded word caused Ron to immediately retract his arm like he'd just touched something foul, face morphing into a disgusted grimace as he rolled his eyes in juvenile mockery<br/><br/>“You're gonna skip <em>breakfast </em>to <em>proofread an essay</em>—”<br/><br/>“And finish my Arithmancy assignment, yes,” the brunette added in affirmation.<br/><br/>Ron stared at Hermione as if she had a massive, pulsating growth mounted to her tired face, evidently unable to fathom how his friend managed to place so much time and effort into the chores of school-life. A confused grunt left his lips a moment later as he scratched the back of his freckled neck.<br/><br/>“You're a right mental one, you are," muttered Ron with an airy sigh. "At least eat before you—“<br/><br/>“I <em>can't,</em> Ron. I've wasted enough time as it is,” Hermione contended firmly, eyeing her watch in a clear public display of impatience.<br/><br/>“Oh, <em>come on</em>, Hermione,” whined Ron in a childish manner, and he recognised her attempt to retort, but he quickly continued. “You're <em>bound</em> to get O's anyway. Sparing half an hour ain't gonna kill you, and it ain't gonna ruin your<em> twelve</em> parchment-length essay and assignment either,” he argued, a cheeky smile cocked against his lips.<br/><br/>Unconvinced, Hermione's gaze moved from her wristwatch and towards the bag nestled against her hip which housed her schoolwork. Ron's shoes shuffled against the crimson carpet a few moments later, likely from restlessness of his appetite, and the noise tugged Hermione's attention back to him. As their eyes met, she saw something akin to hopefulness and, quickly, she realised that he planned to press the matter further. Hermione's aching head winced in trepidation.<br/><br/>“Okay, fine,” Hermione reluctantly conceded, and Ron watched as she inhaled a deep breath. “But, if I don't get an <em>Outstanding</em> for both of them, I'll be informing your mother you're neglecting your O.W.L studies again,” she threatened with a smug, albeit weak, raise of her eyebrow as she trailed towards the tunnel.</p><p class="western">
  <strong>. . .</strong>
</p><p class="western">The Great Hall bustled with life as Ron and Hermione entered. As the pair strolled towards the Gryffindor table, Hermione's ears were gratuitously assaulted by a loud gasp and eager chattering bubbling from a huddle of second and third year students. With a mildly disapproving sigh, Hermione attempted to drown out and ignore the gaudy gossiping, not entirely sure what could have caught their interests so intensely. Yet, as she continued down the long hall, Hermione encountered similar herds of students at their respective tables. They all seemed far too engrossed with something, and she almost considered listening in.<br/><br/>Ron and Hermione soon approached their usual spot, and they greeted Seamus and Dean, who were already seated and eating their breakfast. The two males greeted them back before continuing on with their seemingly intense discussion.<br/><br/>Hermione poured herself a drink before stuffing her hand into her schoolbag, procuring a packet of tablets. By then, Ron had already begun eagerly piling copious amounts of sausages and bacon rashers onto his plate. His eyes shifted curiously towards Hermione as she awkwardly popped two tablets out of the aluminium packaging.<br/><br/>“You all right?” asked Ron as he savagely stabbed an innocent sausage with his fork and began nibbling on it.<br/><br/>Glancing towards her friend, Hermione nodded. “You needn't worry, I've just got an awful headache,” she muttered with a bothered exhale.</p><p class="western">From the corner of his eye, Ron watched Hermione for several more seconds, taking it upon himself to not question her further. He nodded in silent response as she took a swig of juice to wash the two tablets down.</p><p class="western">After grabbing two triangles of jam-covered toast, Hermione peered down the table in search of something, but seemed to not spot whom, or what she had been looking for.<br/><br/>A moment later, that morning's <em>Daily Prophet</em> newspaper materialised atop the table in front of her. With an appreciative smile, Hermione picked it up and began absentmindedly flicking through it for something — anything — that might distract her from the pulsing throb within her skull and overly loud chattering around her.<br/><br/>Several minutes slid by before Ron nudged Hermione's arm in a failed attempt at discretion, jolting the girl from her browsing to look up at him.<br/><br/>“What's up with that greasy git?” Ron questioned with a narrowed glare. “He's been looking our way since we got here.”<br/><br/>Hermione peeked over the newspaper and traced Ron's line of sight until it landed upon the Slytherin table at the other side of the hall and, more specifically, onto Draco Malfoy. She peered at him for several prolonged seconds, watching him openly leer their way before she thinned her eyes.<br/><br/>Malfoy wasn't staring at<em> them</em>, he was staring at <em>her.</em><br/><br/>Even from the wide distance separating them the Slytherin boy managed to look absolutely livid, appearing uncharacteristically dishevelled and out of sorts. Just how Hermione hadn't felt the fervent stare vigorously burning holes into her was astounding, for the intensity of his glare was near palpable. While the act alone wasn't anything new from him, Hermione was perplexed as to why he was solely targetting her, and why he felt the need to do it so viciously. It was almost as if he was imagining strangling her where she sat.</p><p class="western">Hermione's eyes turned to slits, contemplating. She was adamant that he mustn't have residual anger over their unfortunate run-in from the night prior, which was assuredly his own fault. Though, given just whom those dramatic leers belonged to, it seemed more than likely to be the case, and Hermione was visibly close to rolling her eyes. Never before had she met a soul that housed such a knack for being so far up their own behind that they would willingly forgo reason to hold onto ridiculously petty grudges as he did.<br/><br/>“I haven't a clue,” replied Hermione softly, returning her gaze back to the newspaper held up between her fingers, hoping that Ron would perhaps just drop it, though she knew it was improbable.<br/><br/>True to character, and despite the lacklustre reply from his friend, Ron took it upon himself to accept it as ample encouragement to continue on. "I reckon he's up to something, y'know,” he offered in open declaration, mouth half full with a meaty bacon sandwich dripping in tomato-ketchup.</p><p class="western">Hermione glanced sideways towards the apparent starved redhead, lightly shaking her head at his continued display of uncouth tendencies. She hummed in tame reply to the boy beside her, deliberately avoiding to mention the events of the past week, and trying, though seemingly struggling, to avert his oncoming tirade with her clear lack of interest. If Ron caught even the most trivial whiff of Draco Malfoy up to no good, no matter what it was, he would forcibly place himself directly in the middle of the situation. And once he got involved, it would only be a matter of time before Harry involved himself too. Ron, though he truly did mean well on most accounts, often had trouble keeping a tight lip around his best friend, even when it was for the best.</p><p class="western">“The slimy gits got to be—I mean—” Ron's lips bunched together like he didn't know how to articulate his point. “Just <em>look</em> at him, Hermione,” he turned to her abruptly, pressing hard into the wooden table beneath him, seeking approval, and when he found none he didn't seem deflated in the slightest.<br/><br/>“You always say that, Ron."<br/><br/>“And am I ever wrong?” the ginger questioned as he jabbed his fork into a stray bean.<br/><br/>Hermione took several seconds to stare incredulously at him, and as she went to open her mouth to reply, Ron quickly raised his hand into the air between them, halting her words.<br/><br/>“As a matter of fact, <em>don't </em>answer that,” Ron muttered in a wary voice. “It's way too early in the morning,” he groaned, and immediately took a bite of food.<br/><br/>The tips of Hermione's lips tweaked up into an amused smile as her eyes slid back down towards the monochromatic, moving images. Within seconds, her attention drifted upon the photo of the Minister for Magic and an extremely short, toad-looking woman. Hermione's smile dimmed into a tight, disapproving line upon seeing her. The feeling of repulsion and disdain frothed around in her gut, not only due to her inhumane treatment of Harry during his detentions, but also beause she thought Umbridge an absolutely horrendous professor. Hermione gritted her teeth — something she knew her parents would chide her for — and stared at the lovely, sweet smile replaying in the newspaper. Instinctively, and almost too abruptly that the paper very nearly tore, she turned the page over.</p><p class="western">To the brunette's dismay, she was met with a disastrously defamatory article about Harry.<br/><br/>Against her better judgement, which clearly warned Hermione to not read, lest she intended on riling herself up, she began skimming over the vile text of the article that wrongfully vilified and insulted her best friend.<br/><br/>Far louder than she had intended, Hermione scoffed with unmistakable annoyance, and her fingers gradually tightened around the grey paper each second she read more and more of the slanderous words. Any appetite she may have had up until that moment had been sapped away from her, and she couldn't help herself from verbalising her displeasure.<br/><br/>“The nerve of those—those absolute loathsome <em>dimwits,”</em> chastised Hermione in a harsh hiss, and she sharply turned to Ron, endeavouring some form of agreement.<br/><br/>Besides her, Ron appeared to still be peering at Draco Malfoy, lost in thought, and he jerked as he missed his chance to catch a stray bead of sauce dripping from his food. It landed on his thigh, marring the black material of his school trousers. Ron looked around sheepishly for a serviette before he reached past Hermione. His slender arm brushed against her tensed fingers and, briefly, her heart fluttered at the menial contact, pupils widening. Hermione watched him snatch up the item, and he pulled back as he began to wipe himself down, none the wiser to his friend's current fixation upon him.</p><p class="western">Narrowly avoiding a dull swell of dejection, Hermione puffed out a blow of air and looked away towards the heinous newspaper within her grasp. Any fleeting joy she had felt moments before melted away in an instant.<br/><br/>If posed with the choice, Hermione would rather sit through another ghastly year of Divination than read another word of the provocative slander. Without sparing another glance at it, and seeming to have little care where it may land, she tossed the paper onto the large table as if it was a wet rag.<br/><br/>The sound of the paper hitting the table roused Ron's attention. "You done already?” he questioned, motioning towards her mostly picked-at toast as he straightened up at the sudden movement from the girl.<br/><br/>“I suppose I lost my appetite,” Hermione remarked grumpily, briefly eyeing the newspaper with a resentful glare. “Besides, I need to—”<br/><br/>“Yeah, yeah, all right. <em>I know</em>,” replied Ron in a monotonous drawl, eyes glazing over with a disinterested sheen.<br/><br/>Inhaling gently, Hermione began to push herself to a stand, and as her attention flickered over the surrounding occupants of the Gryffindor table, she realised the peculiar lack of jet-black hair.<br/><br/>“Ron," said Hermione, beckoning his attention. "Where's Harry?” came the question soon after, and Ron noted that she sounded almost motherly with the tone she had used.<br/><br/>The ginger bit into a hot buttery slice of toast he had acquired as Hermione scanned the hall in search of their friend. Ron ventured to reply to her, causing small flecks of food to hop from his lips — he quickly reached up and wiped his mouth clean with his jumpers sleeve and gave a small cough before he tried again.<br/><br/>“Dunno, your guess is as good as mine,” replied Ron in a rough voice as he sought for messy jet-black hair. “Haven't seen him since last night now that you mention it,” a second piece of toast got stuffed into his mouth, and when Hermione looked down at him with a raised brow, he clarified. “He wasn't there when I woke up, see.”<br/><br/>Over from their left side, Dean peeked around Ron's lanky frame to peer over at them like he had something of importance to say to the pair.<br/><br/>“Dean?” Hermione queried, encouraging him to speak as she sat back down in her seat.<br/><br/>“About Harry — he was in here earlier, but he disappeared once he heard the news,” said Dean in a routinely casual tone. “No clue where he went to though."<br/><br/>At that, Hermione tilted her head, perplexed. “News?” she parroted.<br/><br/>“Well, yeah. Haven't you two heard?”</p><p class="western">Hermione paused before she glanced around once more, and watched as the students across the Great Hall continued their enthusiastic gossiping.<br/><br/>It quickly dawned on her that a few of them were occasionally sending wary glances, or outright staring at both her and Ron. Being in the seat of one of Harry's closest friends did come with the occasional, unnecessary stare or questions, but what Hermione saw as she continued to look around the room was not the typical stare of an inquisitive first year, or nosey witch or wizard. Something must've happened. Something bad. Hermione went to turn back towards Dean, impatience seeding its way through her, needing to know what he had been talking about. But Ron beat her to it.</p><p class="western">“Clearly not, mate. What news?” Ron pressed, and he seemed to forgo his remaining food entirely, his attention drawn solely to Dean and the sudden unknown information.</p><p class="western">Dean's eyebrows bunched together. “There was a murder,” he said in a much quieter voice than he had previously been using.<br/><br/>Hermione sprang forwards, forcing her upper torso onto the table to get a better view of Dean. “A <em>murder?”</em> she squeaked out. “Who—where—<em>how?”</em> she blustered out in a scattered array of questions.<br/><br/>“We don't know," replied Dean. "But it happened down in Hogsmeade. Seamus reckons it was some drunk bloke from one of the pubs, but I've heard different stories; a student, a homeless local... nobody knows for sure yet though," he said with a dispirited, light shrug. "It's got everyone on edge."<br/><br/>Hermione released a long, slow exhale as she turned away. The wretched bubbling rise of worry erupted throughout her whole being, and she began to lightly rap her fingers against the dark oak table in deep concentration. A murder happening so close to Hogwarts was nigh unheard of, and Hermione had a tangled knot in her belly warning her that something terrible was approaching.</p><p class="western">“Cheers, mate,” said Ron with a weak smile to Dean, and he nodded in response before turning back to Seamus.<br/><br/>There were several long moments as Ron peered across the hall again, and he listened as Hermione continued to drum her fingernails against the wood. His scrutinising eyes locked onto the Slytherin table once more, and he narrowed them into slits.</p><p class="western">“Hermione,” Ron started firmly, still glaring across the hall. “You don't reckon...“ he paused, contemplating his train of thought. “You don't reckon that Ma—”<br/><br/>“Don't be <em>ridiculous</em>, Ron,” Hermione accosted brashly, eyes snapping to him in an instant. “As if Malfoy would—“ she stumbled, struggling to utter the accusation into the air between them, “would—“<br/><br/>“Kill someone?” finished Ron in a lowered voice.<br/><br/>“Yes, Ron,” Hermione gritted out, watching him with hard eyes. “Honestly, he's a stuck up, foul brat, but he isn't a <em>murderer.</em>”<br/><br/>“What, and you know what he is now, do you? For all we know he could be!” contested Ron, eyes narrowing at his friend. “I wouldn't bloody put it past the slimy bastard.”<br/><br/>Hermione tensed at the foul language and habitually smacked the back of her hand across Ron's closest arm.<br/><br/>“Oh for heaven's sake, <em>stop it,</em> Ron,” Hermione whined out in annoyance. “Get a grip, and think about what you're even saying."<br/><br/>“I don't need to get a grip!" barked Ron, perhaps a little more aggressively than he had intended. "Malfoy is as low as they come. I'm telling you, Hermione — he's up to something, and I bet that's it!” he continued adamantly.<br/><br/>“Based on what, exactly? Staring? Dodgy looks? They hardly warrant <em>murder</em> accusations,” Hermione's voice markedly rose to a higher octave, and she gripped at the hem of her school jumper's sleeves in mounting frustration, willing it to calm her down lest the silly quarrel ended sourly for the pair. "Malfoy isn't the cause of <em>every</em> bad thing that happens around us.”<br/><br/>Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Malfoy heading towards the door of the hall, and she hoped his departure wouldn't encourage Ron's accusations as an admission of guilt. That premature thought shattered mere seconds later when Ron's gaze flickered over to the haughty blond's form as he exited the hall.<br/><br/>“All right then, <em>genius</em>. Got any better ideas, do you?” Ron asked in a tense tone, eyebrows raised expectantly.<br/><br/>“A better idea than Malfoy being a savage killer? No, I couldn't <em>possibly,</em> Ron,” she quipped, still trying to maintain a relatively quiet voice. “You're being absolutely absurd. Just <em>drop</em> it.”<br/><br/>Ron huffed indignantly, lip raising up into an appalled sneer, taking Hermione's incessant defence of the Slytherin as an act of pure betrayal. “<em>I'm</em> being absurd? His father is a <em>Death Eater</em>, Hermione," he bit out, voice higher than normal amidst his upset. "It runs in his family; in his blood. In fact, I bet he's already—”<br/><br/>Hermione's brown eyes narrowed dangerously at Ron, and he immediately tensed at his brazen implication.<br/><br/>“So now we're accusing him based on <em>blood?”</em> Hermione's voice peaked, and a few students around them began to stare at the two bickering with one another.<br/><br/>“You <em>know</em> that's not what I meant, Hermione,” Ron groaned out, sounding defeated, but his chest remained puffed up, refusing to back down on the issue. “And why does it matter? It's only Malfoy. They're a right bunch of prats anyway.”<br/><br/>“That's besides the point! Perhaps you should pick your words more <em>carefully</em>, unless you <em>intend</em> on sounding just like him,” Hermione hissed while grabbing for her bag. “I'm leaving,“ she clambered up from the bench and flung the bag over her shoulder. “Enjoy the rest of your meal.”<br/><br/>Before storming away, Hermione grabbed the previously abandoned <em>Daily Prophet</em> from the large, oak table and chucked it into the bin on her way out.</p><p class="western">
  <strong>. . .</strong>
</p><p class="western">Hermione looked at her wristwatch for the third time in several minutes and let out a disgruntled groan, allowing her arm to droop to her side with an uneven sway. Fifteen minutes had already slipped by since Ron and her had fought, and the irritation was still ripe and putrid deep within her, burning a hole into her lip from all the worrying her front teeth were achieving.</p><p>As if she didn't particularly care who saw her, Hermione nigh stomped down the quiet, torch-lit hallway leading towards the library. The hushed silence from the lack of students seemed to antagonise her mind to wander a wary path, and it drifted immediately back towards Ron. Hermione was sure that he was still in The Great Hall, gorging himself on his food while he fumed like a caustic bomb — perhaps just as ardently as herself. That fact made her feel at least a little better.</p><p>Usually, amidst their arguments and heated debates, Hermione would've found some twisted satisfaction beneath the waves of irritation. Over the years, it had become a part of the pair's dynamic; a part of their friendship. But Hermione had found no pleasure in their earlier row. Ron had been markedly more foolish than she thought him capable. </p><p><span class="s-13"><span class="s-9">T</span><span class="s-10">he shadow of Hermione's brow deepened. </span>Ron's accusations and spite had certainly been marshalled by his dislike of the Malfoy family because of the turbulent past they all shared,</span> <span class="s-14"> but he was simply finger-pointing with no evidence to back himself up. Whilst Malfoy was indeed up to something, Ron wasn't at all privy to the information, and it assuredly was not murder. Truthfully, Hermione had tried to remain calm and direct Ron's tirade away, lest he discover what had happened in the library and use it as justification for his accusations. But his insistence had caused her</span><span class="s-16"> annoyance to quickly dominate her, a</span><span class="s-17">nd with it, the first domino had been carelessly thrown down, spearheading a destructive mess in its wake.</span></p><p class="western">Hermione sighed, the sharp sound riddled with frustration as she toyed with her necklace. Draco Malfoy was most certainly many bad, foul things, but a killer was simply too ridiculous.</p><p class="western">Being so lost in her thoughts seemed to rouse the headache, and Hermione winced as her head bellowed, carrying an almost nauseating weight, and, almost as if preordained, rapid, heavy-footed steps echoed down the hall in perfect rhythm with each pulse resonating in her head. With a purposeful spin akin to someone about to berate another, Hermione swivelled on her heel towards the fast approaching individual.<br/><br/>Before there was even time for her to react, large, skinny hands shot forwards, and Hermione, for the briefest of moments, thought that she was about to be bashed in the face by one of them.<br/><br/>Thin, rigid fingers gripped a hold of the nape of Hermione's school jumper and robe in a thick bundle, lurching her up before slamming her straight into the stone wall to her right. The impact of the collision knocked Hermione's forehead directly against the stone, and she yelped out in pain, the throb reverbing throughout her skull like a tolling bell. The high ringing sang deafening notes through her ears, and it took a second before she was able to become coherent again. A shiver erupted over her flesh as the bitterly cold stone of the castle wall remained compressed harshly against her rosy cheeks, but Hermione's attention rested solely on her right arm which screamed out in agony, and she quickly realised it was due to being held against her back, strained at an awkward — <em>painful</em> — angle.<br/><br/>“Where the <em>hell</em> is it?” Malfoy hissed venomously.<br/><br/>Hermione grunted against the chilled stone, and her instincts rapidly bubbled to the surface; her free, non-dominant hand shot to her wand which lay nestled inside of her right robe pocket. Before it even got halfway to its destination, the hard sting of a sharp wand pressed against her throat, jabbing into her flesh. Hermione froze, breath catching as her arm returned to the wall, struggling to find placement against the stone.<br/><br/>Malfoy huffed from behind her, sounding as though it was laced with fury, and he harshly forced Hermione against the stone to keep her from moving. “I said where is it, you<em> thieving</em> little<em> Mudblood</em>,” his grip tightened, and the cotton threads of her jumper roughly begin digging into her neck.<br/><br/>“Get off!” Hermione gasped out, and wriggled in an attempt to free herself. “What on earth is wrong with you?” she barked tersely at him, and he snarled his overly white teeth at her.<br/><br/>“I know you bloody well have it, Granger,” Malfoy hissed out dangerously. “Give it back and I'll <em>consider</em> letting you go,” the threat came from low in his throat, and there seemed to be a dire tenseness to it Hermione couldn't quite understand.<br/><br/>Hermione knew the unspoken truth behind his words, but even if he let her go, she was sure he mustn't think she would ever be foolish enough to genuinely believe he would not attempt to hex or jinx her. But, that was besides the point, for Hermione remained utterly unaware of what she had apparently taken.<br/><br/>"I don't know what you're talking about!" spat Hermione, voice strained against her throat.<br/><br/>In pure, adrenaline fueled defiance, Hermione heaved herself from the stone enough so that she could twist her neck to peer up at the boy pinning her against the wall as though he aimed to force her through it, and she saw a similar expression to the one she had seen at the beginning of the week. Once again, it took Hermione by surprise, and she wondered how she had ever failed to read it before. Beneath the molten rage sat a wild, feral and desperate look; one that echoed something one might see on a cornered or threatened animal fearful for it's life. Malfoy looked unequivocally <em>terrified.</em> At what, Hermione did not know, but for several long moments she stared in silence at his tempestuous grey eyes ringed with darkness and fatigue, and she felt a tinge of worry for him.<br/><br/>A harsh jab of his wand into her throat tore Hermione away from her staring and back into reality before she let out a bitter scoff into the air; to think that she had argued with her friend over his innocence and even dared to empathise with him in the slightest.<br/><br/>“Where, Granger?” the male snarled again, but his tone had a hint of shakiness to it.<br/><br/>“I didn't take anything!” hissed Hermione. “<em>Now, let go of me!”</em><br/><br/>Hermione squirmed against him, and Malfoy looked like he was getting progressively more stressed by the minute. In retaliation to her failing attempts to free herself, he once again slammed her against the wall, sending her head against the stone a second time, likely harder than he realised. Hermione gritted her teeth together before she released a panicked gasp for air when he squeezed for purchase against her uniform too harshly, making it impossible for her to breathe.<br/><br/><em>“Where?!”</em> howled Malfoy, voice panicked, face overwrought and wild.<br/><br/>"I d-don't...know..." rasped Hermione weakly as her vision began to stutter. "S-Stop—I can't..."<br/><br/>Through the rocking, unsteady world around her, and the piercing note of dizziness, Hermione thought she heard rapidly approaching footsteps and somebody's voice bellowing down the hall, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't focus over the ringing in her ears and the thumping pulse in her skull. As her fingers weakly scraped against the pale stone, there was a harsh jolt from behind her, and her throat suddenly became loose and free of the constriction. Immediately, a desperate gasp squeaked out of her as chilled air flooded into her struggling lungs, and her balance cocked.<br/><br/>Hermione swayed like a feather gently gliding through a light breeze before she collapsed onto the hard floor in a pathetic heap. Shallow pants wheezed from her in rapid succession, eagerly claiming the much needed air, and she slowly began to regain her her bearings. The hallway quivered as she opened her eyes, and reality rushed back to her when a low grunt echoed through the air. Far too quickly, Hermione shot around to watch as a fuming Harry swung Malfoy around like a ragdoll, sending the Slytherin against the other wall before losing his footing, and the pair plunged down onto the floor.<br/><br/>Draco Malfoy groaned out from the force of the landing, and Harry took it as opportunity to slam viciously against his body, ramming him into the ground without care for consequence. As Harry raised a hand in a clenched fist, poised and ready to strike, Hermione heard, but foolishly chose to ignore, the high sing-song voice that bounced down the hallway chasing after her friend.<br/><br/>“Harry, <em>no</em>, you mustn't!” croaked Hermione, voice feebly weak as she desperately scrambled across the corridor towards the two males on trembling arms. “Stop it—Harry, <em>stop it!”</em><br/><br/>Hermione sprang forwards as she reached them to grasp at Harry's arm, digging her fingers into his cloak; but Harry had been reduced to lack of reason. His fist snapped through the air and connected with Malfoy's face with a gruesome crack.<br/><br/>"Harry!" Hermione gasped out airy and light as she pulled at his taunt arm, still struggling to catch her breath.<br/><br/>“<em>Hem, hem."</em><br/><br/>Hermione tensed, and Harry mimicked the action, only, he continued to snarl down at the bloody, groaning blond male beneath him.<br/><br/>"Mr Potter, just <em>what</em> do you think you are doing to dear Mr Malfoy?” a sweeter-than-honey voice sang over to them, which, even while reprimanding, sounded far too kind that it came across as pure <em>wrong</em>.<br/><br/>Professor Dolores Umbridge stood a few metres away from the trio, and Hermione's stomach dipped as she peered up at the short toad-like countenance of the pink-adorned woman.<br/><br/>"And<em>—</em> <em>oh!</em>" cheeped the short woman. "Miss Granger, isn't it, dear? Well now, I would have thought <em>you</em> to be wiser than to involve yourself with such incivility and riff-raff," a high giggle escaped her wide mouth, and Hermione winced at the foul sound, but didn't at all miss the unconcealed jab.<br/><br/>From his prone position on the floor, Malfoy gave a rough shove upwards into the Harry's torso. Given their current audience, Harry held back a response, gritting his teeth, jaw going tense in frustration and he released his rigid grip on the Slytherin's collar. Malfoy clambered out from under the black-haired male and up to his full height, theatrically cupping his bleeding nose with his palm. Harry and Hermione followed suit, and the brunette paved a calming hand down Harry's bicep and forearm, quickly realising that she had been doing it for both their sakes.<br/><br/>"Are you all right?" murmured Harry to Hermione, concerned green eyes flooded with ire, and she nodded up at him, being much more worried about him than herself.<br/><br/>"Well now, children, thirty-five points from Gryffindor for the both of you, and I should think detention is in order; tomorrow afternoon at one o'clock in my office," Professor Umbridge announced in a honeyed voice, and Hermione saw Harry's jaw tense in fury. "Mr Malfoy, please do see yourself to the Infirmary and get that fixed, dear," she added with a sweet, wide smile.<br/><br/>Draco Malfoy stood stiff for several beats, seeming like he didn't want to leave; his raging eyes never leaving Hermione's face, perpetually sending deathly daggers towards her, entirely ignoring Harry. Finally, he released a loud groan of frustration, throwing his body around as he began his departure back down the echoing hall.<br/><br/>"<em>What—?</em>" barked Harry so aggressively it caused even Umbridge's attention to snap to him. "He was <em>attacking</em> Hermione, she didn't <em>do</em> anything wrong! Why the hell is he—"<br/><br/>"Mr Potter!" Umbridge's voice rose, but only in pitch. "Naughty children shall only speak when spoken to, and should never raise their voices to their superiors," she tilted her head in a sickeningly quaint way. "You've just acquired another night of detention," she giggled with determined sweetness.<br/><br/>Hermione's hand immediately flexed around Harry's rigid forearm as she recognised his desire to fight back, firmly squeezing it as if striving to ground him. It achieved its goal, and Harry gritted his teeth, holding back his rage.<br/><br/><br/></p><hr/><p class="western">Chestnut eyes weakly fluttered open, glossed over with a mild sheen of sleep and incoherency before they shut again, and the girl rolled over to bury her face into the warm pillow beneath her. The firm impression of her schoolbag against her bare legs caught her attention, and a soft grumble left her throat as she begrudgingly pushed herself up into a sitting position.<br/><br/>Hermione squinted down towards the object at the foot of her bed. After a much needed stretch, she pulled her bag down onto the floor with a soft thud, resentfully thanking her former self for having chucked it onto the bed as she collapsed the night prior, and an ambitious yawn escaped her before she rubbed her eyes to rid herself of some remaining fatigue. Hermione's attention trailed wearily over to the messy stack of books on the table beside her bed, and she carefully pulled them onto her duvet to sort through the ones that needed to be returned that day.<br/><br/>Advanced tomes on Charms, Ancient Runes, and Protection Spells were the first to be sorted, and then something rather peculiar caught Hermione's eye. Curious, she reached for the small, blackened leather book amidst the others, blinking as she peered down at it. Even through her tired mind, she was quite sure she hadn't signed it out.</p><p class="western">Bunching her brow in confusion, the brunette absentmindedly trailed a fingertip over a curious indent in the tarnished leather of the cover and flipped it over. It didn't contain any indication of a title at all, though, it wasn't uncommom for some older books to bare their name on the first page. Yet, as she stared at it, Hermione found something about it quite peculiar; it seemed rather small for a spell book. For several seconds she stared down at the curious object, and slowly, a strange flicker of a distant memory nagged within her mind, as if she had seen it somewhere once before. As Hermione brushed the fragmented thought aside, an odd prickling sensation slowly began washing over her flesh. It grew in intensity for a brief moment, riding in shaky waves which ascended her spine, causing her to quiver.<br/><br/>Naïvely assuming it to be the winter chill in the air, Hermione pried the book open with gentle fingers. The pages were barren, lacking any indication it had ever contained text, merely showing signs of age and wear from mistreatment. As though the realisation hit her forcibly, Hermione pulled back and tilted her head. It wasn't a book at all. It was a diary. More for her own sanity than anything else, she began flipping through the yellowed pages to confirm that it didn't contain the owner's name. Hermione froze, breath snagging in her throat.<br/><br/>The old diary, which lay between her fingers, was becoming warm. It pulsated with a magical heat that Hermione felt was completely wrong, yet, at the very same time, completely right. A strange beckoning sensation slid over her flesh, <em>begging</em> her to continue to touch it, to caress it, and... Hermione ripped her hands away, sending the diary toppling down onto her crimson duvet. Unable to look away, she watched as the small diary snapped open to a bare, naked page of its own volition, eyes widening in horror when terribly beautiful, blotted, inked words began to bleed into reality upon the old vellum pages.<br/><br/>Hermione's heart staggered, and she released a jagged, horrified gasp.<br/><br/><br/><br/></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Witch and the Snake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lurching herself from her bed, Hermione dove to her bedside table and grasped desperately for her wand, unadulterated panic disfiguring her pallid face. From the moment the onyx ink had seeped onto the yellowed parchment, to that very second, Hermione had not once dared allow her auburn eyes to venture away from the diary, not willing to permit it out of her sight for a mere second, lest it do something... <em> anything</em>. The wand was firm and reassuring against her fingertips as she held it aloft towards the black diary, creating a secure feeling that steadily weaved its way through her as she took a cautionary step away from her bed.</p><p>It certainly wasn't beneath Hermione to admit when she was assuredly out of her depth, and the artificial resolve her wand granted her wasn't enough to restrain the furious beat of her heart. Finding it nearly impossible to concentrate while she cautiously aimed at the innocuous looking object atop her duvet, Hermione swallowed the fearful bubble in her throat and begged herself to get a grip; she needed to find someone, and quickly. Dismissing the instinct to flee straight towards Harry and Ron was almost too difficult for her, but she settled on the option that was most prudent.</p><p>“<em>Dumbledore</em>,” said Hermione breathlessly, continuing to take another wary step back in an attempt to create more distance.</p><p>Carelessly, her footsteps faltered as she backed her thigh against the bed across from her own. Hermione bit back a grunt of pain, refusing to break line of sight with the leather-clad diary as she tightened the hold on her wand until the whites of her pointed-knuckles became strikingly apparent. In a foul display of sentient prowess, the diary seemed to perceive her intent, and beautifully written, inked-words bubbled to the surface of the parchment once more. At the sight, a vile shiver detonated over Hermione's flesh and an immense dip formed in the pit of her stomach as she squinted to read the elegant calligraphy.<br/><br/><br/>Hermione visibly stiffened; suddenly feeling rather nauseated. Through her mounting panic, she somehow managed to find the conviction within herself to send a scathing scowl down at the fading words; threatening her, no matter how cordially it was presented, wouldn’t work.</p><p>It took three curt strides for Hermione to reach her bed, and she quickly flung the diary closed before snatching it up with her free hand. Almost instantly, she shuddered; feeling a feverish shiver glide over her back and rocket skywards against her spine. For a faded moment, it seemed as though a faint, looming presence lurked nearby. The feeling lingered as though if she were to just turn around she would see just who or what it was. Despite herself, Hermione mulishly ignored it, instead reaching to stuff the diary into her schoolbag <em>—</em> not wanting the foul thing to have contact with her skin any longer.</p><p>For a fleeting moment, it appeared that Hermione had been successful as she viciously tugged her bag open, and it wasn't until the diary began to vibrate furiously within her small palm that she felt opposition for having touched it at all. Her alarmed eyes snapped to the small diary and watched as lustrous, blinding light crept out in long, spindly tendrils from the closed pages, coiling around her forearm like sleek snakes. A sharp gasp echoed in the air, and before there had been time for Hermione to loosen her grip, the passage of time seemed to decline and waver. It was as if she was being forcefully drawn towards something by an enchanting force, and she didn't know how to stop, or if she even truly wanted to.</p><p>The floor of the castle seemed to become strangely soft and pliant beneath her feet, and she struggled to maintain focus as a quaking black wave violently crashed over her, knocking the breath from her lungs in a harsh gasp as her eyelids closed to the sweet caress of darkness.<br/><br/><br/></p><hr/><p>Bereft of sound, the room to which Hermione opened her heavy lids was dimly lit, and the air was suffocatingly thick and murky around her. It took only a moment before it dawned on the girl that she lay inert against the chilled floor. Upon mustering the strength to move, her lethargic arms struggled to push herself into a meek slouch against the ground, her necklace icy-cold against her flesh. Hermione was light-headed, drained of energy, and she swore <em> — </em> owed solely to the distinct prickling rise of the hairs at the back of her neck <em> — </em> that she could vaguely sense a pair of eyes watching her.</p><p>Unfocused and squinting, Hermione peered around her surroundings, and before long, confusion bubbled across her paled features as recognition of the space dawned on her; she was still in her dorm room. Only, something about it didn't seem quite right, and an uncomfortable budding worry gnawed at Hermione's gut.</p><p>In the wake of blinking, she sent a cautionary glance once more to scan the room, and it became apparent to Hermione that the world around her was muted and drained of vibrant tones. She almost wanted to call it faded, like a watercolour painting that hadn't correctly dried; noting that the edges of everything were distorted with a hazy glow, akin to a mirage or hallucination. And even though she recognised the room as a safe location from visual stimuli alone, the counterfeit warmth and sanctity of the space unsettled Hermione. Yet, no matter how hard she endeavoured, she failed to recall how she had ended up in such a precarious place. </p><p>As if the thought had struggled to catch up to her through her sluggish mind, Hermione sucked in a sharp breath of dense air and darted her eyes across the nearby rug; she didn't have her wand.</p><p>“I was beginning to wonder when you might come to,” a deep, albeit soft, pleasant voice drifted towards Hermione and, despite herself, she found it remarkably calming.</p><p>Regrettably, the moment promptly passed and Hermione jolted, overcome with a fit of fright to spin on her axis towards where the voice had originated. Almost immediately, her weary eyes locked onto a tall, lean male standing across the room.</p><p>In the brief seconds that followed, Hermione seemingly forget to breathe or possess any rationale as she not so politely gawked up at the beguiling male and, even through her sudden panicked speculation of the situation, she lacked control over her eyes as they flickered across the welcoming expression he wore.</p><p>With his period-robed arms locked behind his narrow waist in a polite stance, and pitch-black hair <em> — </em> which was almost darker than Harry's <em> — </em> parted to the side in impossibly perfect waves, he looked objectively passé and locked within a time long gone. Hermione could practically feel the charming, charismatic aura emitting from the male, and she found that captivatingly long, dark eyelashes lined his deep imposing eyes, and her heart faltered as his persisting gaze burned effortlessly into her. Through her dazed mind she was unable to pinpoint if they were too alluring, or simply too vigorous to bear, and if not for their eerie, magnetic pull, Hermione would have certainly shied away.</p><p>As if amused, a gentle, beckoning smile slowly slid upon the male's handsome features, creating stark duality to his overbearing gaze.</p><p>Not too kindly, Hermione was ripped from her reverie as the male began to take three smooth steps towards her, and with each echo of footfall, the prior reality of her suspicion smacked her harshly across the face. She went rigid, weakly scooting back several paces on her bottom; heart and eyes going wild with apprehension. There was little doubt in her mind that she looked absolutely pathetic, if his current look was any indication, but she achieved some distance and the boy briefly ceased his advances. When he spoke once again in his rich voice, Hermione remained taunt and vigilant, downright despising the way he felt the need to enunciate each syllable so eloquently from his fair lips.</p><p>“Oh, you must forgive me, where are my manners?” the boy's brows bunched apologetically. “My name is Tom Riddle,” he took another poised step towards her, though much more timid than the last. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Granger.”</p><p>Riddle's captivating eyes were deathly still as he watched her, and Hermione got the most peculiar impression that he very well <em> knew </em>that she was already aware of exactly who he was, but had intentionally gone through with the charming niceties regardless. One might argue that it was perhaps as though he was mocking her beneath his perfectly wonderful introduction, but no signs were evident upon his superficially prominent guise nor laced within his thrilling tone.</p><p>And still, prior knowledge of the enigmatic boy didn't halt his benign words from striking Hermione so vigorously. It was, in fact, quite the contrary; appearing as though they ignited a fear within Hermione as her intuition was verbally confirmed, and her heart began pulsing <em>—</em> <em>pounding —</em> against her ribcage far faster than the girl deemed conceivable, causing her head to parody the blistering echoes of each beat like an out of sync bass. A tight, strained gasp tore its way from her dry lips, and primal panic began to swell within her as reality started to flood her tangled senses. Her dulled-copper irises flashed towards the familiar door at the other end of the room, and she very nearly considered risking an escape until the remaining sliver of reason within her wrestled the notion away.</p><p>Fists clenched tightly, Hermione managed to timidly swallow a portion of her terror. “I <em> know </em> who you are,” she finally squeaked out, endeavoring to gain some traction, and she died a little inside at her craven voice. “But h-how do you know who <em> I </em>am?”</p><p>Riddle’s thick brows raised marginally before he smiled politely down at her. “My, that is a curious question, isn't it?” his velvety voice swayed lucidly through the murky air and tickled pleasantly at her ears.</p><p>"So <em> answer </em>it," gasped Hermione in an abrupt, valorous demand which surprised even herself.</p><p>As though it was instinctual, and she regretted her sudden words, Hermione immediately peered up at the boy, brown irises stormy and cautious as she scanned his handsome face for painted signs of wrath or ill intent. But Riddle displayed no reaction at all, save for the slow inhale he took. Positively insulted by her own nervous reaction, Hermione aggressively dug her incisors into her lower lip, very nearly drawing blood, before she began kneading her tongue against the abused flesh.</p><p>The male's pale face continued to remain modestly passive as he watched Hermione, and he unclasped his hands from behind his back so smoothly that it couldn’t possibly be real.</p><p>"I'm afraid you'll have to suspend your curiosity a little while longer," informed Riddle softly, and a perfectly warm look crept upon his face before he gracefully crouched down. "It is quite a long story, you see."</p><p>It was unclear if Hermione was going to challenge his scrupulous evasion at first, but then a sudden pained wince contorted across her features when a violent thumping rampaged within her skull in a resolute fit of pulses. Her strength seemed to give way for a moment, causing her to slump forwards against her forearms. Hermione let out a hoarse groan and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, frantically willing the pain to subside.</p><p>“Are you quite okay, Miss Granger?” to his credit, Riddle did sound positively concerned, and Hermione was bitterly sure his face would perfectly match his troubled tone.</p><p>When Hermione didn't respond, Riddle leant forwards and carefully extended a sculpted, wide palm towards her.<br/><br/>Like a startled animal, Hermione jolted and her chocolate eyes snapped to the out-held limb, perturbed as to whether he intended to shake her hand, pull her up from the floor, or harm her. Whichever the case, Hermione did not reach out her hand in response, instead opting to send a daringly brave glare up at Riddle, and he observed her with his inky irises as if he was studying a specimen upon a dissection table.</p><p>“I must admit, I had hoped that you might be more capable at withstanding the transition to...” Riddle trailed off, and cocked his head in a disgustingly quaint way, sending loose strands of wavy fringe before his enthralling eyes. “<em>Here.</em>”</p><p>Almost pathetically, Hermione appeared to struggle when she scrambled up as quickly and as elegantly as her trembling limbs would permit, and Riddle's dark eyes skimmed over her as her body weakly swayed before she gripped onto the nearby distorted bed. Without missing a beat, Riddle followed suit, fluidly standing back to his full height and returned his hand to its twin behind his back.</p><p>Hermione wished he hadn't.</p><p>If Riddle's presence alone had been overwhelmingly intense, then the sheer size of him only amplified it, forcing Hermione's heart to skip a beat of its furious rhythm. He was near a head taller than Hermione, similar in height to Ron, but where the ginger male held an air of friendly, relaxed intent, Riddle only bore a suffocating, enchanting pressure that was both terrifying and sickeningly intoxicating all at once.<br/><br/>The sudden realisation of her undress dipped within Hermione, and she shot a hand towards the fallen spaghetti-strap of her pyjama top, readjusting it upon her thin shoulder. Even against the chilled air, mortification erupted in heated tingles across her cheeks, and took a deliberate step backwards across the width of the bed, still holding onto the frame for support as she swayed.</p><p>Riddle regarded her with a curious look, one that Hermione couldn't quite discern, and she found herself unable to maintain prolonged eye-contact with him — hating how his weighted stare made her feel small and insignificant.</p><p>Finding momentary repreive and distraction, Hermione cautiously stared at period, shining Head Boy badge neatly secured upon his robes' right collar. The small trinket appeared to jostle something within her, and after several dreadfully long moments, she sucked in a bout of air; her timid caramel eyes finally managing to lock onto his pleasant face with a determined stare.</p><p>“And where, may I ask, is <em> 'here'?” </em>Hermione had truly attempted to sound firm, or at the very least bold, but she had come across like a lost child searching for their mother.</p><p>Riddle continued to maintain his fervid stare upon her. “Come now, I am rather sure you must know the answer to that already, mustn't you?” his deep voice challenged her in a purely innocuous tone that made Hermione feel far more foolish than it ought to.</p><p>“But h-how is that possible?” whispered Hermione, eyes wide and uncertain as they surveyed the jet-black haired boy’s face. “Why—<em>how </em> aren't you dead?” she queried bereft of thought, and her eyes thinned, yet lacked pure defiance. “Harry <em> destroyed </em>you years ago.”</p><p>For the briefest of moments, Hermione thought she saw a faint flicker of a twitch against Riddle's bottomless eyes, but it was gone almost too quickly, and the brunette wondered if she had seen it at all.</p><p>“Did he now?” Riddle raised his robed arm up to cast a glance at his hand before he balled it into a light fist. “Because, you see, Miss Granger, I feel very much <em> alive</em>,” his voice dropped dangerously low, and an instinctive quiver glided over Hermione.</p><p>As she battled through the anxiety bustling within her belly mixed with the persistent fatigue still weighing down upon her, Hermione stubbornly squared her shoulders as she dared to glower up at the tall boy, and something within her dimly buzzed to life. “W-Well what makes you think I shan’t change that?” she challenged recklessly, resigned bravery unfurling across her paled face.</p><p>Riddle's attention lulled back to Hermione's attempt at a valiant expression, regarding her through his long eyelashes. A small, almost sly curve formed against his lips, causing Hermione's insides to squirm <em> — </em> not at all liking the implications of such a charming look effortlessly painted upon his unapologetically handsome face.</p><p>“While I commend your misguided bravery, I do wonder how you plan to do that,” Riddle carefully tugged something out from his robes' right pocket, and Hermione immediately gaped up at him, “without<em> this.</em>”</p><p>“That's my wand!” gasped Hermione incredulously, eyes going wide. “Give<em>—</em>give it here,” she demanded timorously, and even though she knew he wasn’t going to hand it over willingly, she took a small step forwards, hanging her free arm out expectantly.</p><p>“We shan't get anywhere if you insist on playing the fool,” Riddle chastised far too pleasantly, and he twirled the wand around in his long fingers. “But don't worry... you won't be needing it.”</p><p>An unforeseen shudder of exhaustion washed over Hermione once again; the strange corroding hum, much like a faded headache, returned to burrow deep into her skull as his refined voice reached her ears. She quickly retracted her arm to brace herself against the oaken bedpost, denying herself a likely stumble. When Hermione peered back up, to her chagrin, Riddle, whose face wore a look of deferential grace, somehow appeared to be goading her with her wand<em>, </em> and the assumed taunt was neatly concealed behind a foul, polite display of decorum. The onyx-haired boy was wilfully maintaining it within her heated eyesight as his angular fingers toyed along the length playfully; cruelly reminding her that the one thing that might bestow her freedom was assuredly out of her reach, regardless of it being so close by. </p><p>Hermione gnawed on her lower lip with resentful intent at the display, and her curiosity-laced irritation reared its head. “You brought me here <em>—</em> why? What do you want?” she asked slowly, carefully.</p><p>Riddle watched her with peculiar plainness for several moments, a slight stiffness to the smile slicked across his face. "I assure you, this was not my original intention. Unfortunately, you left me no choice once your Gryffindor propriety deemed it necessary to seek out your dear old headmaster without a moment's hesitation," he answered, deep voice carrying a hard bite. "Even <em>after</em> I warned against it."</p><p>Hermione huffed as she frowned up at him. “Why wouldn’t I? I know <em> what </em> you are. I know what you can <em> do,</em>” she announced bravely.</p><p>“Do you?” posed Riddle, edging towards a whisper, yet it sounded too abrupt, too eager. </p><p>“Yes,” declared Hermione, jaw tense. “But it’s not going to work with me. I’m not some little girl you can pray on to achieve your goal.”</p><p>With a stride far too elegant to be plausibly human, Riddle advanced forwards, and the bright echo of his footstep sounded marginally too loud in contrast to the transient silence. Hermione's entire body went taunt, but with unsteady bravery, she stood her ground.</p><p>Riddle, with an almost gauging look in his eyes, teetered towards the outer tip of Hermione's personal-bubble. He stopped just short of it, cocking his head faintly to the side as he regarded her carefully. A mixture of uncertainty and fear sat on Hermione's face, but she held his captivating stare with modestly bold determination before shooting a cursory glance down to her wood-twined wand. It was barely an arms reach away.<br/><br/>An amused look briefly appeared on Riddle's face. "The heart of a Gryffindor is always so woefully courageous, even before it surrenders,” he hummed in a near hypnotic way; voice much deeper due to his closer presence. “And it always does surrender,” his focus remained firmly locked on Hermione. "It is merely a matter of time."</p><p>Cautiously, Hermione swallowed the lump forming in her throat, her coffee-toned eyes dancing with fright. She attempted to hold his compelling stare, but a thick churning of nausea brushed over her; feeling revulsion from a being she identified as an abomination residing so close to her person, and she looked away.</p><p>Blunt fingernails dug into her palms. “Your—your threats aren’t going to work on me,” stuttered Hermione heedlessly, panic fizzing in her gut even through her declaration. “This is just a memory, or—or a moment in time," she said rather feebly, attention meekly trailing up to meet his keen gaze once more.</p><p>Riddle angled his head marginally to the side. “A memory?” he mimicked smoothly as he leant in slightly, his height casting a bleak shadow across Hermione’s features. “Is that what you think this is?”</p><p>At his bold action, Hermione momentarily faltered, but quickly scrambled to steel herself. “W-Whatever it is, you aren't capable of harming me here,” she declared, somehow lacking true conviction as she released the bedpost to stumble a few steps away from the male. “It isn't real...”</p><p>For the first time since setting her eyes upon the boy, Hermione watched as a raw, untrained, wicked smile slowly began to creep its way across his lips, and his dark eyes glinted in a sinful, almost fiendish manner as he traced her retreat. Goosebumps viciously flared up across her flesh, and her lips parted to release an uneven, erratic pant.</p><p>“Is it not?” breathed Riddle, more eagerly than truly necessary. “And just how sure are you that you might be willing to test that brazen hypothesis, I wonder.”</p><p>Unwittingly, Hermione blanched and couldn’t muster up the strength to formulate a reply. Her eyes quickly darted past his broad shoulder towards the door as a terrible dread passed over her, spurring an ancient, innate compulsion to quickly flee or hide from the beguiling male. It was an irrational thought, ever fueled by his oppressive gaze, but the door was just across the room, and Hermione rapidly weighed the validity of her potential escape.</p><p>“Miss Granger,” his deep voice slithered towards her, and Hermione's whole body startled, wide eyes snapping back to meet his horrifically enchanting ones in a turbulent dance. “You aren’t thinking about running away, are you?” his smile had washed away, replaced with a delicate frown. “That would be dreadfully rude of you.”</p><p>A tremble of a breath slipped from Hermione as his enrapturing eyes weighed down upon her, and she swore she could vaguely feel the numbing, static charge of his dormant magic as he remained looming over her. With little reluctance, her quivering fists clenched.</p><p>"I do wonder whether you will make this easy for the both of us," said Riddle gently, perhaps even arbitrarily, and his eyes danced down towards her neck.</p><p>Hermione managed to force herself to swallow the terror swelling at the base of her throat. "Make <em> what </em>easy?" she reluctantly asked, alarm bells prudently screaming in her ears.</p><p>Riddle's dark irises snapped up to lock onto her face, and it made Hermione's heart leap. “Well, you see, owed to your valiant desire to expose me, I’m now in a little bit of a predicament, aren’t I?” suddenly, he pulled back and looked away to examine her vine-wood wand gently. “I can't very well have you scurrying around blurting out about the diary's existence."</p><p>“But that doesn't make <em> sense</em>,” whispered Hermione rather bravely. “Why <em> bother</em>—why would you...” she hesitated as flashes of bewilderment and worry marred their way across her features. “Why did you reveal yourself to me?”</p><p>Though Riddle's face remained pleasantly enigmatic, Hermione swore his deep eyes momentarily shone with cold glee. “Ah, an interesting question indeed,” remarked Riddle fluidly. “It appears we might very well get somewhere after all.”</p><p>Instinctively, Hermione worried at her lower lip in frustration and sent another timid glance to her wand cradled in his large hand, watching it carefully.</p><p><em>“Why?”</em> Hermione pressed rather forcefully, her focus trailing up to meet his gaze once more, and she scrutinised the obsidian-haired boy for any telltale signs of a hint or twitch.</p><p>“I would've thought it quite obvious," said Riddle, wearing a perfectly disapproving expression, and Hermione, against her better reason, almost felt mortified. “Perhaps your intellect is just as disingenuous as dear little Harry's glory to fame.” </p><p>Immediately, Hermione bristled, astonished at how the boy kept such an immaculately handsome look upon his features through the muted contempt.</p><p>“<em>Shut up.</em> You don’t know <em> anything </em> about Harry <em>— </em> or me,” puffed out Hermione in a terse, tight voice.</p><p>Barely a heartbeat had passed before Riddle’s passive façade slowly melted into a mockingly suave tilt, and he seemed to forget to blink.</p><p>“<em>Oh,</em>” Riddle sounded almost breathless. “I know all about <em> you</em>, Miss Granger,” a dangerous gleam sparked within his dusty eyes. “Friend and ally to the famous Harry Potter; brightest witch of your generation; eager, <em> desperate </em> seeker of knowledge; courageous little...” the heavy air around them appeared to become bitterly cold, prickling at Hermione's exposed skin with icy purpose, and he uttered the last word decidedly softer than the rest. “<em>Muggle-born</em>.”</p><p>Hermione froze as the simple word, but with it, the vile implication and intention, ripped through her.<br/><br/>Finding herself in a suspended realm of shock, the reality of the situation swept over Hermione like a freezing pail of water, steering her rapid heart into a low, hollow echo. The howling cries of her instincts begging her to flee fell on deaf ears as Hermione stared up in horror at the male. Almost instantly, her arms, which were previously tense and alive, went limp until they fell to her sides.</p><p>Riddle fluidly pulled away, and Hermione observed a callous, almost sadistic twinkle swell within his eyes, causing bile to ferment inside her belly. Barely an instant lingered before Hermione's attention began to restlessly dance between the leaden irises which shimmered with corrupt delight, and the wand nestled between his slender fingers that trailed idle patterns against the wand kept at his side. </p><p>Perhaps for a second too long her focus lingered as it beckoned to her; begging Hermione to just reach out and reclaim her possession from the male.</p><p>“<em>Go on</em>,” he incentivised in an eager breath.</p><p>At his voice, Hermione's attention quickly shot back to his face and she hesitated as she witnessed his pupils dilate, his already dark irises becoming endless voids. Cruelly, each jarring quake of her heart jeeringly reminded Hermione how terrified — how exposed — she had been the entire time, and her breath caught in her throat as she watched his handsome face flicker with some unknown emotion.</p><p>A shuddering intake of air rushed into her lungs, and Hermione's attention remained permanently locked upon the tall male. “You're—you're going to...”</p><p>Time crawled to a slither as her eyes widened in sheer horror, and Hermione questioned how she had been so stupid — so naïve.</p><p>It was often alleged that Hermione was almost too smart for her own good, yet, in that bleak moment, her mind seemed to abandon her entirely, and reason tauntingly shattered into tiny shards, forsaking her to the predicament alone.</p><p>The violent heave of her heartbeat spurred her on like a rolling beat of drums, and with one last frightful look up at the male, her trembling muscles buckled. Hermione lurched herself in fierce panic towards Riddle with a desperate outstretched hand, pouncing at him like a rabid dog. The hard ivy engravings of her wand tickled the tips of her fingers as a laboured gasp got ripped from her dry throat.</p><p>In a blur of disorientating motion, a dark wave of energy hit Hermione before the etched impression of a bedpost ruthlessly wedged against her spine, and a shrill yelp of pain cracked from her lips.</p><p>Bold and wild, Hermione's eyes snapped open, teeming with ardent desperation. "Let<em> go </em> of me!" she snarled viciously before another gasp slipped out as Riddle's heady magic boldly constrained her against the firm oak, the jagged wood digging into her tender skin as she struggled.</p><p>Riddle could scarcely suppress the cold chuckle that rumbled within his chest, evocative of a gleeful child. At the sound, a knot malignantly twisted Hermione's insides; a festering pool of dread churning there, and she swore the air had suddenly become heavily charged, sending static caresses up her spine.<br/><br/>"My, my, how<em> uncivilised</em>," taunted Riddle as he took a purposeful, elegant step towards her, empty hand maintained unpretentiously aloft in the air. "Surely you didn't think that was going to work?"</p><p>Hermione hawkishly watched as he took another step. “Stay away from me,” she spat, uneven and less assertive than she had hoped.</p><p>A growl of adrenaline-filled desperation tore itself from Hermione as she jolted forwards, attempting to overpower Riddle's magic pinning her to the post, but she remained in place, and the hold only appeared to tighten and squeeze around her. Hermione heaved, eyes boiling with panic and despair when she struggled to catch her breath. With one last failed attempt, she crumpled back in on herself, heart blustering in her chest.</p><p>"The more you resist, the harder this will be for you," muttered Riddle, voice eerily gentle.</p><p>The distinct prickling of infant tears forming caused Hermione to snap her lids tightly shut, and she willed it all to be a terrible, horrific nightmare. But the comfort she sought behind her closed eyes was fractured as the crisp echo of Riddle's leather Derby shoes hitting the ground clipped through the air, causing a shudder of horror to burn into her.</p><p>Reluctantly, yet unable to help herself as her resolve waned, Hermione slowly opened her eyes to bear witness to Riddle's bewitching gaze burrowing into her like wildfire, taunting her with its boundless allure as he halted just before her, eyes dull and lifeless. Terrified, Hermione failed to stop the whimper of anguish that escaped her, and tears split from her eyes in salted streaks. Her fingers curled into a trembling fist — nails biting into the heel of her hand — and she barely managed to maintain a weak stare up at the broad-shouldered male. The act held no true weight; merely functioning as a frail attempt to regain some semblance of dignity in the moments Hermione perceived as her last.</p><p>"Just—just get it over with," whispered Hermione in a choked whine, pathetic and weak.</p><p>Strangely, Riddle made no attempt to move. "What ever do you mean?" he asked, lips tilted into a coy smirk.</p><p>Hermione inhaled a sharp breath. "Drop the act," she bit, voice shaky and strained as her tears continued to bleed from her. "W-What else could you possibly want? Y-You're going to—"<br/><br/><span class="s-241">"Kill you?” finished Riddle almost too enthusiastically. </span><span class="s-242">“Oh, you are quite mistaken,” he blinked brilliantly, thick eyelashes dusting his cheeks. </span><span class="s-243">“As long as I have use for you, and you do as I command, I shan't kill you,”</span> he said evenly, voice velvety and soft as the words graced Hermione's ears. "You see, Miss Granger, I require your assistance.”<br/><br/></p>
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